Do Over
by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: Will Graham gets a Do Over, waking up on the day he first met Hannibal. Realizing the opportunity, he decides he's going to nab Hannibal without all the drama this time. He had finally accepted himself, right? Things should be better this time. However... what he doesn't know is that Hannibal is getting a Do Over as well! A/N: After Wrath of the Lamb. MURDER FAMILY!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, people! My first singular Hannigram fic.**

 **I don't own Hannibal.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

The cold splash of water roused him suddenly and Will Graham shot out of bed, feeling confused and perturbed. Wasn't he just falling to his death while in Hannibal's arms? But no... he was standing beside his bed, in Wolf Trap Virginia, with a floor full of dogs staring at him.

"What the hell?" he mumbled, ruffling his already messy hair.

The clock read six in the morning. He groaned. Could he had seriously dreamed all of that? All of Dolarhyde and Will marrying Molly?

With great reluctance, he looked for the calendar and felt his stomach drop. The date couldn't be right though, right? It was... the day he'd met Hannibal. He knew it for a fact because he had rejoiced and lamented over the day many times in the past few years. But if he was there then... did he just dream all of that up?

Was he insane now? Not the fun kind either, but the legitimate, needed help kind of insane?

Will was frustrated because the one time he could have used an errant student's homework to let him know what was going on, not one piece of paper was around. Damn his having to get it all done before coming home! What was he thinking separating work and home?

Rubbing a hand over his face, he decided to take a shower. Once clean, he'd know what to do.

Turned out that he was just as lost as when he was filthy, but he felt a little better. He fed the dogs, let them out for a while, and the returned them to the house where he locked up and made his way to work. Where it had been a while, or at least he thought it had been since he was there.

His mind ran over everything. Was it a dream he'd woken up from? Was he dreaming now? Was his imagination just too damn detailed? Did he need medical help?

Quantico was looking much the same as always and Will stared up at the familiar building of the Academy, not really wanting to learn the diagnosis of his insanity, but know that it was an inevitable outcome and knowing he wouldn't be getting out of it.

His class was like normal, his desk littered with papers. He rifled through them, recognizing the assignment he'd given. His file said he was teaching a class on psychoanalyzing today.

 _No._

Things like that just didn't happen.

Did they?

A small knock on the door frame caught his ear and he turned, finding a much younger Jack Crawford standing there, looking slightly impatient. Will fixed his eyes on the man's tie, still uncomfortable with eye contact. Just because he recognized his own darkness didn't mean he wanted others to see it. And Jack had points where he was alarmingly perceptive.

"Come in a little late, Will?"

"Uh... _yeah_ , sorry."

"Well, no matter. A friend of mine who will be helping with the case has only just arrived too, so he won't mind either."

Will followed behind him, feeling light headed. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

Jack's office door opened and Will's eyes landed on the solitary figure he knew he'd see. Hannibal Lecter stood before the board of victims, taking in what Will knew to be the Minnesota Shrike's work.

He turned to the door, sending a genial smile to Jack and then looking at Will like he was something of interest. Will had seen most of this before, but there was a small amount of darkness in Hannibal's gaze that wasn't there from what Will had remembered. Maybe because he knew who Hannibal was this time around?

This time.

Yes, it seemed as if he was reliving his past?

That or he was in a very detailed dream. Only time would tell.

Either way, he certainly wasn't going to just go with it. Not this time.

Not when people he liked could remain alive and people he hated could be removed permanently.

And then there was Hannibal.

What to do?

"Hannibal Lecter, this is Will Graham, a friend of mine who is deeply involved in the case of this cannibal. Will, Dr. Lecter is going to help build a psychological profile."

As last time, Will shook Hannibal's hand, but deliberately didn't look at him, instead choosing to look at the board behind him. He then took the seat he had the last time he went through this case, noting the cup of coffee waiting for him and it was to his specifications too. Jack and Hannibal were standing in front of the board, looking at the victims.

"Tell me, then," Hannibal's accented voice filled the silence. "How many confessions?"

Will could hear the slight curiosity in his tone this time. And not not because he cared about the victims or anything, but because he was interested in a fellow cannibal. He also sounded slightly disappointed and Will could imagine why. Garret wasn't going about the process with enough flair or grace, not like Hannibal did. Compared to Hannibal, Garret was a fledgling.

"Twelve dozen, the last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning. And then they _all_ had details." Jack moved to sit at his desk, looking annoyed and worn. "Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols' body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then Freddie Lounds posted it on TattleCrime dot com."

Freddie Lounds.

" _Ugh_!"

He couldn't help it. While she had her uses at times, he just really didn't like her. And her constant hounding of Abigail had annoyed him to no end.

"Not terribly fond of her?"

Will looked over to his friend whose friendship had deeply affected his life. "Not at all. She's tasteless."

"Do you have trouble with taste?"

Will smirked, taking up his coffee and sipping it. "Well, my thoughts often aren't what normal folk would describe as tasty."

He'd already accepted himself. He wasn't shaking or twitching. He wasn't feeling ill this time because he knew already. He'd fucking killed a guy with Hannibal and enjoyed every minute of it! Death and crime scenes didn't seem like such a big to-do now.

"Nor mine, but we have no effective barriers."

Will scoffed, "I have barriers just fine. They come in the form of forts... and dungeons," he added as an afterthought, thinking of Chiyo and Castle Lecter. "I don't know, my memory palace may need a bit of fixing up."

Hannibal seated himself beside Will. "Associations come quickly."

"So do forts and dungeons," Will smirked, looking at Hannibal's left ear.

The man paused in taking a sip of coffee, "Not fond of eye contact, are you?"

"No," Will admitted without preamble. "I'm not too terribly fond of _people_ either."

"Do you associate with your coworkers at all?"

"No, to them I'm some crazed teacher who needs constant watch and I'd prefer to wash my hands of the socializing. And then to therapists like yourself, I'm an intriguing piece of work that you want to unravel and study, piece by piece. I know your kind, doctor."

He couldn't help it. He was still minutely bitter over the Encephalitis. Had he known he wasn't losing his damn mind, he probably would have accepted himself much sooner. With less pain and jail time.

"I'm sorry Will, observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

Will placed his coffee on the desk and leaned in toward Hannibal, looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I would advise against psychoanalyzing me, Dr. Lecter. Dozens of other therapists have done what you are doing and never made it far enough before what they found had terrified them. And I don't like being psychoanalyzed."

He stood, knowing it was good a moment as any to leave. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture... on _psychoanalyzing_."

He swept from the office, sighing at himself. This would be tedious, but probably a little fun to.

He could tell that he'd shocked Hannibal with his answers.

Seeing the foreigner so off balance was a rarity and Will liked it.

* * *

Going with the motions wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. He remembered how things went. His reactions just weren't as twitchy as the last time. He couldn't find it in himself to give a damn about people's opinions this time. He'd do his job, nab Hannibal's attention, get the Encephalitis treated quickly, and just go about his life.

Having already been awake on that Saturday morning, he had been expecting Hannibal to come to the door.

He opened it, fixing his eyes on Hannibal's right cheekbone. "Hello, Dr. Lecter, what can I do for you?" he asked, voice light and teasing.

He could do many things.

"Good morning, Will. May I come in?"

"Why not?"

He stepped aside, allowing the man into his motel room.

"Have you eaten?"

"No, just passing the time with some light reading," he said, gesturing to the book on the table. One that Hannibal had recommended for him once. He'd never read it just to spite the man, but he found himself interested now. Now that this cannibal was not the same as his cannibal.

 _His cannibal?_

Hannibal wasn't his by any stretch of the imagination.

Or was he?

Hannibal smiled when he saw the book, "You have good taste in literature."

"A friend told me about it once. I'm just, honoring his memory."

Hannibal's gaze lingered on the book for a few seconds, before he sat at the small table provided by the motel and began pulling tupperware form his bag.

"I'm very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage."

 _Made out of people._

Will knew that he was staring at a bowl full of the remains of Cassie Boyle's lungs. He also accepted the bowl and began eating straight from it, wondering if he was going to hell for being so brazen.

"It's delicious," he complimented, noticing the small smirk flit over Hannibal's lips. "Thank you, I hadn't realized how hungry I was."

"My _pleasure_."

 _I bet it is._

And so they were two men, sitting down for breakfast and dining on a woman's lungs. And only Will knew that both of them knew it. It was ironic and hilarious all at once and he had to withhold his grin at the thought.

Such morbidity so early in the morning, shame on him.

"I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly."

Will shrugged, "It doesn't really matter. With my overactive imagination, I tend to look at people and place myself in their shoes until I know things about them I rather wish I didn't. It happens, nothing I can do. Nothing you can do. Not that you'd want to stop, I imagine. Empathy disorders are a rarity, doctor, and I'm sure you'd like to get all you can out of your association with me."

Hannibal considered him for a moment. "Do you always try to push people away by pointing out hard facts about them in hopes of deterring them?"

Will smiled a slightly askew smile, knowing it didn't speak well for his sanity and not giving a fuck either way.

"Why, Dr. Lecter, who said I was trying to push you away? In fact, I know that everything I'm saying is only drawing you in more closely and that is exactly what I want."

Hannibal's head tilted like it always did when he was interested/amused. "And why would you want to draw me in, good Will?"

"I'm not that good, doctor. As for why I wish to draw you in, you'll have to reason that out yourself."

"We may have to socialize more than you feel is comfortable, to do that. Become friendly."

"I can socialize with people I like or tolerate. However, you have to be interesting for me to like you and no offence doctor, but you aren't anything I haven't seen before, so I hope you'll try to keep my interest."

Will had already gotten to know a narcissistic cannibal. Another one - with basically the same body - wasn't any different and therefore not so surprising.

It was a bit sad. This Hannibal wasn't like the one Will had pulled over the cliff. Even if they were to become friends, he wasn't the Hannibal Will had begrudgingly grown fond of. There would always be a difference. He regretted that fact. He was also astonished at how much he regretted it.

"Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for monsters."

Will scoffed, "The Shrike didn't kill the girl in the field, that was simply a copycat."

"What gave it away?"

" _Everything_ ," Will admitted. "The cannibal is targeting young girls of a particular age group and appearance. His daughter, who resembles all the victims, is his golden ticket, as I told Jack. She's growing up and will be leaving soon and he can't stand that idea. So he's making substitutions and he takes great care in killing them and even greater care in consuming them.

The copycat held now positive feelings or even respect for the girl. To him, she was simply a means to an end. A _pig_. Rather reminiscent of the Chesapeake Ripper, actually."

Now that he had more information, he could easily make that connection. And he could help it because it was so fun to briefly see Hannibal's eyes dilate in shock.

"So what kind of problems does he have?"

"Separation Anxiety is the main one. It's why he's doing all this."

"Do _you_ have any problems, Will?"

"Not really, I'm pretty straightforward. Nothing about myself for me to feel horrible about."

Hannibal was regarding him curiously. "That's not what Uncle Jack thinks," he finally remarked. "I think Agent Crawford sees you as a fragile teacup made of the finest china. And you can only be brought out for the most special of guests."

"Yeah," Will laughed. "Those serial killers might take a bite of of me though. I might be shattered beyond repair if that's how he sees me."

 _Like last time._

"I don't think you're a teacup, Will."

"Oh really? What do you see me as, Dr. Lecter?" Will asked, shoving a forkful of Cassie Boyle and egg into his mouth.

"The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by."

Will had always wondered how he resembled a long bodied, wannabe rodent.

"Finish your breakfast."

* * *

Finding Garret didn't take as long this time. Will wasn't playing nor was he giving anyone a chance to run. He leafed through some files, lying about none catching his eye until he came to Garret's.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs?" he asked aloud.

"He's one of our pipe threaders," said the secretary.

"Does he have a daughter? Eighteen or nineteen, wind chafed, pretty. Auburn hair, not too tall."

"Maybe, I don't know. I don't keep company with these people."

"What is it about him that you find peculiar?" asked Hannibal.

"Up and quits for no reason. Left a number but no address. Everyone else had an address. Suspicious. Can we get his address please?"

The woman sighed predictably and went about looking it up. Will discarded all of the other files, standing by and waiting.

"Are you sure he is the one?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, I can just feel it. Besides, we have the piece of pipe and he's a pipe threader. Too many coincidences."

* * *

The execution of the Hobbs' went down a little differently.

Knocking on the door and meeting the wife had been different. But the moment she had called out to her husband and mentioned the FBI, things changed. When no response was immediate, she asked Will to come inside and wait a moment, before going to fetch the man who was the Minnesota Shrike.

The loud scream of terror and the blood splatter that appeared from around the corner though, was what got him.

Drawing his gun, he stepped around the corner carefully, already knowing that Garret didn't have a gun of his own. The wife was a lost cause, she wouldn't make it and the only person with medical expertise on hand wouldn't do anything to help her either.

Will could take it this time. He wasn't shaking. He wasn't terrified of the blood or the fact that someone had just been murdered ten feet from him.

However his emotions raged when he entered the kitchen to see Garret holding a knife to Abigail's throat. That was not done.

With a steady hand and absolutely no remorse, he shot Garret in the right shoulder first, making the man lose grip on the knife. When Abigail fell forward, Will followed up with a second shot to the man's kneecap, downing him instantly and giving him nowhere to go. He wouldn't die, but he'd be in a lot of pain.

He wouldn't get off from this. This time, he'd suffer trial and jury for his actions and for making Abigail help him.

Will didn't really care that he killed people. Will cared about Abigail's involvement.

Speaking of the teenager, she scooted away from her's father's fallen body, shoulders shaking from the unexpected fear at the fact that she could have just died. She looked up at Will, breathing ragged and uneven. Eyes filled with worry.

Hannibal walked into the kitchen slowly, taking in the scene. "So, he is the Shrike?"

"Yes. I need to call Jack."

* * *

Garret was placed in the hospital along with several watchers. Until he was well enough for a trial, he'd have twenty-four hour surveillance.

And who was the first to jump the gun at taking care of Abigail? None other than Will's own fuzzy cannibal who was allowing himself to feel for somebody else again.

Will did believe that in some way, Abigail reminded Hannibal of Mischa. Alone now, lost, in need of guidance that Hannibal had no issue in giving, whether it was good or bad. A traipse through the past basically.

When Will allowed himself to be corralled into meeting Hannibal for unconventional therapy, he had wondered over what would change. Garret wasn't dead this time. Would Hannibal view it all as the same as what happened the first time or would that small nuance make a completely different conversation?

Not too different apparently.

He was still rubber stamped for the field.

"Jack thinks I need therapy."

The familiar walls of Hannibal's office were like a comfort despite how much manipulation had gone down inside of them. Despite the mind twisting games they had played with each other.

"What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there."

Will scoffed, "I'm in a dark place constantly and there is no difference between those dark places and the ones in my mind. I'm inundated in darkness, I don't need therapy to make a 'way out'. Whether I bring new things in or out doesn't have much effect on the outcome either."

"Bringing in new things… like a surrogate daughter, perhaps?"

"Ah yes, how _did_ you know I'd be okay with that?" Will asked, genuinely curious. He'd never asked Hannibal about why he even added Will on the adoption papers. Literally _adopted_ Abigail as the surrogate daughter of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. It was like Hannibal was trying to tell him something. Murder Husbands seemed a little to truthful.

"Abigail's home has been sold and the money given to the families who suffered because of her father. She had nowhere to go and nothing to live on. She needed someone.

The amount of care you feel for her was obvious in the fact that you constantly inquired after her health and even purchased lunch for her in hopes of making her feel better. Empathy disorder aside, you seemed very attached to her already, in a fatherly manner. I figured allowing you more time with her would be beneficial to you in many ways. Especially where socializing is concerned. But also in broadening your horizons and emotional depth.

You feel responsible for her."

"You were there too, do you feel any kind of obligation toward her?" Will countered.

"Yes. I feel a staggering amount of obligation, for many reasons. She speaks of you. Does not fault you in what you did. Wants to see you more often."

Will's heart stuttered a bit. He'd like that.

"If you came to dinner tomorrow evening, you'd get to see her."

 _And who would we be eating this time?_

He doesn't say it aloud, because that would just give it away. But he thinks it. And how could he not when he knows what he knows?

"I guess."

"Wonderful! I'll give you the address."

Will descended the opposite ladder, putting he and Hannibal on even ground, so to speak.

"Abigail has expressed a desire to leave the States for a while. Perhaps travel once she has managed to earn enough to support herself. While I offered to take her, she refused because it would feel like a 'hand out', her words. She doesn't want to go alone, but feels uncomfortable asking for help.

Tell me, Will, if you would travel, where would you go?"

This was twist he hadn't expected. Go. Where to go?

"Am I alone or with someone in this question?"

"Either."

"Italy," he answers easily, earning a double take from Hannibal.

"May I ask why?"

Will grinned, though he wasn't feeling any amount of joy or humor. More like dry bitterness. "A friend wanted to show me Florence, but we didn't get a chance to explore last time."

Hannibal stared for a moment longer, because continuing to write on a slip of paper. "I have been to Italy many times. I even suggested taking Abigail. Perhaps she'd like to go if you made mention of your interest in joining us?"

"We wouldn't be able to go anywhere as of yet. Jack thinks Abigail helped her father kill those girls."

"And how does that make you feel?" asked Hannibal with the old therapist trick that everyone knew.

"How does it make _you_ feel?"

"I find it vulgar."

"Obviously, but that doesn't mean there isn't an amount of truth in it."

Hannibal looked up as he moved around his desk in order to hand the paper with his address to Will. "It is, entirely possible," he said almost reluctantly.

"Completely actually. Garret needed information in order to get close to them and a forty-something year old man inquiring after young girls would be suspicious. Abigail hasn't killed anyone yet, but that doesn't mean she hasn't partaken in the hunt."

"Will you tell Jack your thoughts?" Hannibal asked, already looking worried, though controlling it well. Having known Hannibal so deeply, Will could pinpoint his emotions better than anyone else. He felt a little pride at that.

Will met his gaze and boldly stated, "No."

"Why?"

"Protecting that which is already unstable."

"My thoughts exactly," nodded Hannibal, already smiling. "Should Abigail ask you about her father, what would your response be?"

"I don't know her father."

"Of course you do."

"No," disagreed Will. "I know the Minnesota Shrike. I've stepped into his mind. I've become him as easily as I can become anyone else. I know the cannibalistic serial killer, but I do not know the father."

Hannibal seated himself, not in his desk chair, but in the one that sat across from Will's usual chair. He crossed one leg over the other and looked up at Will expectantly. "Remember who you are when you enter the minds of these killers, Will. It is unhealthy to get lost along the way. Remember who you are and don't let your reflection become distorted by those you empathize with."

"Aah, yes," Will smirked, remembering the following line so well. "The mirrors in my mind can reflect the best of myself and not the worst of someone else."

Will was facing the bookcase now, eyes trailing over the spines, though not seeing. Feeling a little lost in uncertainty.

"Where did you learn that?" came Hannibal's voice from behind him. The chair creaked. Hannibal was drawing nearer. He always liked pushing the boundaries of Will's comfort.

"A friend of mine. He's... he's gone now."

" _Will_?"

He turned, flinching back when he found Hannibal standing _directly behind him_. A tanned, well manicured hand rose, pushing against Will's abdomen where Hannibal's mark no longer existed. With enough pressure he was pinned to the bookcase, Hannibal leaning over him with his left hand beside Will's head.

"What the-"

"I claimed you here," said Hannibal, pushing a little harder on Will's abdomen. Will's breathing halted.

Hannibal's free hand brushed against Will's right cheek. "Francis stabbed you here."

 _No._

With slow movements, Hannibal pulled at Will's hands until they perfectly mimicked the hold he'd had Hannibal in when he pulled him over the cliff. "And you held me like this as we fell."

Will swallowed convulsively and bit his lip. "Please… tell me this isn't some _really_ messed up dream?"

"I wouldn't know, but if it is… at least we're together."

"Then we're really here?"

Hannibal smiled, "It would seem so."

Unable to help himself, Will pulled Hannibal closer, burying his face in the man's shoulder. So his cannibal was here to, huh?

"And here I'd been feeling bad because you weren't the same man I knew," mumbled the profiler.

"Upon awakening, I had lamented the fact that you weren't my Will."

 _His Will._

So Will wasn't the only one using possessive pronouns. The thought made him grin madly. How long had they laid claim to each other but never said anything? It was disturbing, which was perfectly okay because he wouldn't have them be any other way.

"This time…" Will began. "No killing my daughter."

"It wasn't like I enjoyed it. One of the few things that I genuinely regretted doing."

"Hm."

Slowly, Hannibal pulled away and Will held eye contact easily, knowing that Hannibal would see his darkness and accept it wholeheartedly. Happily.

"So you will come to dinner?"

"Yeah. Who are we eating?"

* * *

Seeing Abigail again was nice. The young woman stood a little awkwardly in Hannibal's kitchen, looking between he and Hannibal and the obvious closeness that someone appeared form the last time the three had been alone together.

"Are you two like… a couple now?"

Hannibal looked up from his chopping and smiled, "He _knows_."

Abigail's face morphed from confusion to relief and she lunged at Will, wrapping thin arms around him. "Will!"

"Huh?" Will mumbled, looking to Hannibal for an explanation.

The blond cannibal smiled, "It seemed we weren't the only ones given a second chance."

So then Abigail was there...

Know what? He didn't care if this was a dream. It was probably the best damn dream he'd ever had.

Hannibal and Abigail and Will in their dysfunctional little Murder Family. How… apropos.

"Still though, are you boyfriends yet, or…?"

Will laughed and Hannibal smiled.

"I think it goes far beyond that and much deeper than any of us know."

* * *

 **A/N: DONE!**

 **How was it? Let me know.**

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 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, people! Sequel chapter everyone asked for!**

 **I don't own Hannibal.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

"I've never gone fishing before," commented Abigail as Will led her in the proper maneuvers to spool a spinning reel.

"You, the great huntress, has never gone fishing?" Will teased, knowing full well that her skills lied within the forests in deep camouflage.

She bumped him with her elbow but was smiling the entire time. "I've always been good with deer. Brought down a buck with only a handgun once. Proudest moment of my life. Remember the large head mounted on the stairwell of my old home?"

Will did and his jaw dropped at the realization. "That was _you_?"

"Yep," grinned the teen.

"All _you_?"

"Yeah."

"Damn, I may need some lessons."

Abigail sighed, looking a little forlorn. "It wasn't the first one I'd gotten. The first kill I'd made had left me feeling… hollow, I guess? I didn't really know how to feel about the fact that I had just killed something that was only trying to fend for itself.

The horror of it came after I helped clean and prepare the meat. It was… terrible to me, to have to desecrate something so beautiful all for sport. Though the meat was used to feed us, the hide for a rug, and the head was mounted to proudly display my skill, I always had small, mental breakdowns when the cutting began."

Will frowned, understand where she came from. When he'd first killed, he'd shot Hobbs ten times in the chest. It had been the stress of the situation that got to him, not the killing part. And afterward, it was the reality that he enjoyed the killing, but didn't like seeing the result of what he killed, that had affected him so deeply.

For months, the apparition of Garret Jacob Hobbs would haunt him. Appear when he least needed the man's input.

"You once asked if killing someone, even if you have to do it, feels that bad. At the time I said it was the ugliest thing in the world. I'm afraid I cannot support that assessment any longer."

"Because you like to kill people?" she asked, looking at him with bright, blue/grey eyes that were filled with curiosity. No hate or judgement. She truly understood.

"Yes," Will admitted without remorse. "For years I had been the odd-man-out. I wanted to be accepted and liked by everyone and I strived so hard to be normal so people would accept me and all of my perceived problems would just go away. I even had my own slice of normal for a while. I met a lovely woman named Molly and she had a young son. They were good to me. For three years, it was nice… but there was always something missing.

And then I realized that this 'normal life' I had always craved, wasn't meant for me. There was no excitement. Hannibal, through much manipulation and emotional trauma, had weaved his way into the frayed threads of my heart, closing gaps and entwining himself inside me deeper than any other being has ever bothered to go. His whispers brought me not from the darkness, but to the very center, where he showed me that not everything that is considered Dark, is bad for you. He helped me realize the beauty in it.

I lived a lie for three years. Accepted my personal Darkness, but never acted on it and tried to block it out so I could be 'normal'. But in the end it brought me back to Hannibal and we slaughtered our enemy, together. And it was indeed beautiful."

He paused for a moment, thinking on how to word it.

"Killing does feel good to me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go on a killing spree. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing after all and while I enjoy it and I feel no remorse, I don't need to do it all the time. Hannibal even kills in a controlled environment. His kills are always people he finds to be pigs. Crass, rude, sub-human, and therefore not worth anything until he makes them worthy.

There is a method to our madness. So while I'm saying that you can learn to like it and even give yourself just cause for why you do it, just know that there will always be feelings involved. How did you feel when you killed Boyle?"

Abigail shifted, casting her lure out the way Will demonstrated.

"It was, um… good I guess. I liked the fact that I had been able to defeat someone bigger and stronger. He'd come for me, but I won. It was the aftermath that scared me. And I'm not sure if it was the fact that I would get caught or the fact that I had killed not an animal but a person and did it up close instead of from a distance. I-I watched him die. I'd never watched the deer die before because it usually took several moments to catch up with them, but he was right there and he just... stopped moving. The light was gone."

She had looked into his eyes as he died. That was what had traumatised her so terribly.

"I'm not going to tell you to start killing people until you feel comfortable with the whole process. I just going to tell you that you should do what feels right to you. Hannibal and I will support you. If you don't want to join the kill but would rather hunt then by all means do so. We aren't going to force you."

"I don't want to be left behind."

Will ignored the cold of the water and the slight tugging on his line. He simply pulled the young girl into a hug. "We're not going to leave you behind. You don't need to kill to be with us, we're a family and each of us has particular skills in particular subjects. Not all of us have to be the same."

Abigail jerked, clutching into her fishing rod tightly. "What do I do! Something's pulling on it!"

"Reel it in."

He stepped back, allowing her to bring in her first catch, on her own. He guided her on when to let loose and when to tighten her grip. Slowly but surely, she managed, pulling out a rather fair sized rainbow trout. It was pretty long, more than two feet but less than three and judging by how she struggled to hold it up, it was heavy too.

Abigail was smiling broadly though, obviously pleased with herself.

"We keeping it?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Hannibal stared at the dead fish on his countertop. "I take it you want fish for supper?" he asked, looking Will obviously expecting the expert to have caught the twenty-eight inch, nine pound fish.

Will smirked, gesturing to Abigail, "She'd like her hard work to be put to good use."

Hannibal then looked to Abigail, who was grinning widely. "Then I suppose congratulations are in order. The dessert of choice for our new fisherwoman?"

"Can you make that cobbler thing with the apples and the oatmeal?" she begged, blinking several times in succession to appear more cute.

"Certainly."

Will smiled as Abigail hugged Hannibal and then Will and flounced off to dress in more comfortable clothing.

Hannibal waited until her footsteps were indiscernible before speaking. "Did you have a good talk?"

" _I_ think so."

"Good. Now, would you like to help me with this? To be honest you have more skill cooking fish, than even I do."

"Something Hannibal Lecter doesn't _know_?" Will asked, affecting bland satire.

"Despite popular belief I am not infallible nor omniscient."

"Well then you're good at fooling people because you strike while the iron is damn hot and it's like you know personally what's going on in their minds."

The blond doctor smiled calmly, "All part of my charm, I assure you."

"Yes, _that_ is what drew me in. Not the space around you or the Darkness within you or anything like that."

"And my dashing, good looks."

"Oh, _totally_!" Will smirked, leaning over the counter a bit to see Hannibal's face better. Hannibal mimicked the motion, leaning against his forearms as he toyed with the knife in his hand, running it along Will's lapels and the underside of his chin.

"Please tell me this isn't some kind of kinky foreplay - because _ew_! - I don't need to see that!"

Both pulled away from each other, seeing Abigail standing in the doorway, wearing her favorite green hoodie and a pair of comfy jeans. She was looking at them knowingly, though teasing a bit.

"We would not be so brazen as to conduct such crass actions in the kitchen, Abigail."

Will sputtered, ready to defend himself on how they most certainly were not committing any acts of foreplay - _yet_ \- but Hannibal had shushed him with a smirk.

"The study on the other hand, is off limits for your perusal."

"Good to know," she grinned, laughing once when Will's mouth dropped in horror.

"I'm going to change."

He purposefully ignored the little remark the teen made about too much fun in the shower. For that, he wasn't going to shower at all!

* * *

Another day on the job.

Work was significantly much better when Will wasn't going crazy.

Ever since he'd been guilt tripped into moving in with Hannibal and selling his house - yes, the dogs got to come as well - it was like life was finally in the rights. Dogs, family, work, occasion romantic gestures from Hannibal.

At first he hadn't noticed, but then Hannibal touched his hand and not in the comrade sort of way. He kept his fingers over Will's, pressing on them slightly and making deep eye contact with the profiler.

They were friends. They had a family together. They knew each other and cared for each other more than anyone else could ever possibly feel. But it seemed that Hannibal wanted to take his time with the romancing.

Not that Will minded.

He'd never been with a man before and had firmly believed he was Heterosexual, but Hannibal came along and his belief was thrown out the window along with his relative innocence. Hannibal seemed to always bring about a change in him, whether by deliberate manipulation or accidental action.

So while Will could admit to being attracted to Hannibal and slowly realizing the attractiveness of other men. He wasn't fully intending to look at other men because he had Hannibal. Had a family with him. Was with him even if they hadn't furthered their relationship to that point yet.

Will enjoyed where his life currently resided and wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

Another murder, another serial killer quickly put away.

Things seemed to be going good.

Until one Freddie Lounds decided to rear her ugly, red mop.

Beverly, whom Will had decided to form a friendship with much earlier this time around, ran into his classroom looking worried as she was brandishing her Kindle and shoved it in his face. "You're not going to like this, but I think it's best if you hear it from someone you like rather than any of the press."

And when she said those words, Will knew that things would take a downturn.

TattleCrime was its usual substandard quality, possessing no tact or decency. As Will read the most recent update, he felt his anger skyrocketing, though he fought gamely to keep a straight face. Plans on how to silence one Fredricka Lounds permanently, flashed before his eyes. Gory scenes that made his body thrum with pleasure, filled his mind.

How dare she.

While he was offended at the slight against his family, it was the derogatory comments about Abigail that set his blood aflame.

Once finished, he looked up to Beverly, who was nervously biting her lip. "It's bad, I know. We're trying to see what we can do. I suggest getting some kind of burglar alarm just in case, because we all know that she has no problem walking through a federal crime scene."

"If she tries breaking into the house, she'll be detained post haste. Breaking and entering is a crime and she really can't afford more problems being brought up against her. Not after the fact that she entered a federal crime scene and contaminated it with her hair, which is an obstruction of justice. Crawford has enough to arrest her for several years and she has been threatened already. If she gets too big for her britches, she'll lose everything."

 _Just not the everything you're thinking of._

* * *

Will, during one of Hannibal's break periods between clients, entered the man's office in order to show him what he'd learned today.

"Will?"

Hannibal looked worried immediately, but Will raised a hand pulling his iPad from his desk drawer and beginning the search for Lounds' recent article.

"You are not gonna like this, I assure you."

Hannibal's frown thinned out into an imperceptible blankness that even Will couldn't understand. Together, the two leaned over the iPad and read what was there.

At the top was a blown up photo of both Hannibal and Will walking hand in hand in a nearby park. The next photo was of Will and Abigail shopping for proper clothing for her to go fishing in. The final photo was Abigail and Hannibal cooking, Hannibal had just performed the little egg/spatula trick Abigail loved so much. All of the pictures were taken through windows, but it was still invasive and creepy.

Then there was the title.

 **CANNIBAL'S DAUGHTER LOOKING FOR A SUGAR DADDY OR TWO?**

And then came the actual article.

 **Abigail Hobbs, possible accomplice in the murders committed by her father - one Garret Jacob Hobbs - the Minnesota Shrike, has been formally adopted by none other than Dr. Hannibal Lecter and 'Special Agent' Will Graham.**

 **Dr. Lecter is a world renowned psychiatrist with many credentials and high praises sung to him by the top members in his field. 'Special Agent' Graham, not so much.**

 **Will Graham was formerly a cop from New Orleans, but a lapse in judgement in the field led to him quitting due to mental instability. He attempted to join the FBI but was turned down for similar reasons. However, he did manage to get a job in the Academy, teaching new recruits how to profile killers.**

 **According to many eye witnesses, Will Graham possesses an ability to see into the minds of killers and understand their emotions and motives behind their actions. Unfortunately, being constantly brought into such dangerous situations has left him mentally unstable and in need of the help of Dr. Lecter.**

 **Apparently doctor/client relationships go a little further than usual, as witnessed above.**

 **The two, after barely knowing each other for a week, agreed to adopt a young woman for apparently no reason. Said woman has been found clinging to either one of them but never found alone.**

 **Abigail Hobbs has especially perfected the blink-and-shrug method, easily coercing Will Graham - who was formerly mentioned as being unstable mentally - into giving into her demands, with an innocent appearance and false naiveté. Dr. Lecter isn't so easy to manipulate but his obvious paternal side, fostered by having to care for an ill sibling when younger, makes him soft and compliant though with reasonable restriction.**

 **The two are wrapped around this possible killer's finger and she plays them as one would a well-tuned instrument.**

 **Is it the luxury of this new life or the idea of older men that intrigues her?**

 **Can their safety be ensured when she is with them?**

 **One suspects that so long as they continue to fall for her charms, she'll allow them to live intact.**

 **Intending to learn more soon,**

 **Freddie Lounds.**

Hannibal placed the iPad down and while his face didn't change an inch, he was shaking his head minutely.

"You have been naughty, Miss. Lounds."

Will recoiled visibly, frowning. "Could you _never_ say the words _naughty_ and _Lounds_ in the same sentence, please?"

"Hm?"

"Your accent makes nearly every word you say sound sexual and I am the kind of person who becomes extremely jealous over the things he views as his and hearing you say her name while sounding so… sultry, is not pleasant."

Hannibal was obviously taking in Will's annoyance and was smiling in response. "Worry not, dear Will. For no one would ever catch my eye like you." He clasped Will's hand in his, bringing it up to his perfect mouth for a moment, pressing the lightest of kisses along Will's fingers, before pulling away. He didn't not relinquish Will's hand though.

"Anyway… are we going to do anything about her?"

"Hm… we cannot act yet. If she were to disappear suddenly after this, the facts would most likely point to you as she made it her duty to point out your supposed instability many times. It wouldn't be prudent."

"I know," he sighed. "But when we do take care of her, I will be there and she will scream."

Hannibal grinned, giving Will's hand a light squeeze.

"As you wish."

* * *

If the Freddie business was bad enough, when Abigail got wind of it, she was devastated. And not over the being accused of murder because she had murdered someone before. It was the fact that Freddie was painting it as if she was using Hannibal and Will and with it came the ever present worry that they'd leave her.

Of course when both tried to comfort her, she claimed that she needed air and stormed from the house.

"It's typical teen behavior," Hannibal said when she was gone.

"Sometimes the best choice is to get away until calm once more."

"Is it safe for her to go out when something like that is available for the very easily convinced public, to see? Remember what they did to her house and how Nicholas came along in order to bait her and her friend?"

"Yes, but we cannot hold her hand every time. She is a young woman and will need to make decisions for herself when she is ready."

"Sometimes your profession annoys the piss out of me."

That got him a smile. "I know."

Smug bastard.

* * *

Abigail did not return that evening and Will had not been appeased.

He and Hannibal were awakened at two in the morning by none other than Jack Crawford, who was looking annoyed but mostly regretful. Will obviously assumed the worst right of the cuff and had to be talked down from his hysterics.

"We found the body of a young woman, same appearance as Abigail Hobbs, but instead of being mounted on antlers, she was nailed to a cross, with a slain lamb wrapped around her shoulders. On her bare flesh were the numbers 666 written in repetitive sequence. Stapled to her chest was a photograph of an unconscious Abigail. Does this mean anything to either of you?"

She leaves the house alone for the first time in two months and gets kidnapped and a death threat!

"I'd need to… see the scene."

"Me as well," asserted Hannibal, already standing.

Jack sighed, "Very well then."

* * *

It was pretty gruesome. The girl, Maria Voscherr, had indeed been crucified, but in the most appalling way possible.

The killer didn't take very much time. It was done hastily, with little care. Mostly likely because he was in a hurry. Instead of the nails being driven into the wrists, they held at the elbows. The ankles weren't even held down. The throat was slit the same as the lambs was and the blood was used to draw bloody 666s all over her pale skin. The picture of Abigail was stapled to the girl's bared sternum. There was a little more, however. Her back had been mutilated horribly, with large, red shards of glass embedded within, pointing in opposite directions like wings. Finally, he'd shoved rounded pieces of glass in her eyes.

Will closed himself off, slipping into the mind of the killer.

 _No hard feelings between us. You are just convenient for my plans. You don't know me and I don't know you, but they'll understand either way. I slit your throat to mock them, because they'd understand the significance of the act. I taint your innocence with devilry. You are the lamb I have slaughtered. You are the prize._

 _You bare the message of my making. I want them to know that I am here. That I remember._

 _They will come because I have what they care for._

 _The Dragon remembers and vengeance will be mine!_

Will steps back slightly, bumping into Hannibal along the way.

"Will?"

"He um…" Will paused, remembering that he had to change it up because of Jack and the team. "He thinks we've wronged him somehow and he's warning us that he'll do it in return. He's a little obsessed with mythology and the belief of dragons in scripture. He's mocking my religious beliefs and intends to use Abigail as a sort of tribulation for me. He feels that he has the right to do this and that he will consume her in total and offer her to the great dragon within him.

He is… angered and his wrath will be acted upon if we don't find him."

That sounded rather good for spot of the moment bullshit. A glance at Hannibal showed that he understood very well what Will had meant.

It seemed that Francis Dolarhyde had also gotten a second chance at a new life and he was doing his best to make them pay.

"You say he _believes_ himself to be a dragon?" Hannibal asked… politely curious.

"He thinks… there is a dragon within him and through proper sacrifice he will bring it out."

Jack looked back and forth between them, taking in Will's deliberately worried face and Hannibal's contemplative one. "Do you know something, doctor?"

Those rare moments when Jack's brilliance had shone through.

Hannibal paused. "I had a client that I referred to a fellow because he was becoming too absorbed in his own mind and was no longer seeking help but simply telling me what he was. He felt that he was becoming a dragon and that there was no stopping it nor was there any way he wanted to stop. He was self destructive and needed a firmer hand than what I could give him."

That was a pretty good lie. He wouldn't be Hannibal if he couldn't lie so well.

"Can you tell me anything about him? I know you are fond of confidentiality in regards to your clients."

"He is not longer my client. I will help all I can."

* * *

The home of Francis Dolarhyde was surrounded by FBI agents within hours, though both Will and Hannibal knew that he wasn't foolish enough to get caught while there of all places. He'd go somewhere the four of them knew intimately.

Jack was pissed to not find him anywhere, but they did lay hold to the house and everything within, taking everything as evidence and sneering at the questionable artifacts found inside.

"We're going through his contacts and his possessions for any sort of clue on where he's gone with her. Dr. Lecter, do you know anything about him and where he'd possibly be?"

Will didn't focus on the lie that Hannibal fed Jack, too caught up in where he believed Dolarhyde to be. Some place they'd all been before. A place where things ended and began. Will caught Hannibal's eyes and from what he saw, Hannibal too had understood where their quarry was.

Once returning to their home, Hannibal took Will into his arms and they simply stood in the foyer.

"I'll kill him," Will vowed.

" _We'll_ kill him," Hannibal amended.

"I want to hang him with his own intestines. I want to pluck his eyes from their sockets and force him to consume them. I want-"

Hannibal hummed, cutting him off. He sounded pleased and judging by the growing hardness pressing into Will's abdomen, he was aroused as well.

"Of course me enumerating the various forms of torture I'd like to put Francis through would make you hard."

"I can't help myself. You are so beautiful when you embrace yourself. So enchanting that I can't help but be amazed."

"And aroused."

"That as well."

Will sighed, enjoying the small undulating of Hannibal's hips, but his murderous thoughts were too close to the forefront at the moment. His body was not responding to the sexual stimulus because his mind was so focused elsewhere. "Later," he promised, voice hoarse from emotional turbulence. "When our daughter is safe and our enemy is drowning in his own blood."

"Agreed. When shall we depart?"

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

The cliff held a deep place in Will. There, he had pulled Hannibal over the cliff, hoping to simply die with the man. They would have died together. It was symbolic in his mind. He didn't know Hannibal's feelings on the house, but judging from the morose frown, they weren't good.

"Francis is foolish to enter another's home," commented Hannibal as they approached the house, having parked the car half a mile back, just in case.

"How so?"

"Dear Will, all of my abodes have innumerable weapons hidden in the open. I know the layout of this house in and out. All secrets rooms and hidden nooks. You remember the living area. I need you to get Francis near the piano for my plan to work."

"What are you doing to do?"

"Beneath it is the cell I held Miriam Lass in. Sound proofed to be certain. At fixed intervals it can be set to allow doses of various medications… to fill the air. Once he's been sedated, we'll deal with him. Try not to damage the piano though, please?"

"I can make no promises."

"Your cooperation is enough."

"Hm."

Will went ahead, armed with only his gun and his instincts. He didn't care though, because he wasn't the one in danger here, Abigail was.

The door was unlocked, not shocking in the least. He let himself in, careful about causing a racket. The lights were out, and he couldn't hear anything, but that meant nothing.

He'd walked this hall before. He knew where to go and what to do.

The only light was that of the sun nearing midday. Abigail and Francis were in the living room, Francis was surrounded by various shards of glass. In his hand was a gun and he was looking just as lost as the last time Will had seen him.

"Will Graham."

"Francis Dolarhyde, I'd say it's nice to see you, but I'd be lying."

"Where's Dr. Lecter?"

Will shrugged. "Coming. We can't just disappear at the same time after seeing your little gift, it would look suspicious. But he'll come, because he knows you just as well as I do."

Dolarhyde did not move, but he indeed stared at Will like he was trying gauge his truth. Technically, Will was telling the truth. Hannibal was coming if he wasn't already there.

Abigail lay on the floor, her shirt completely ripped open and bloodied cuts littering her flesh. She wasn't crying, much to Will's relief, but she did look scared. And who could blame her? A crazed man had kidnapped her and was carving odd designs into her flesh.

"Our dance… isn't over, Mr. Graham."

"Abigail isn't a part of our dance Francis… leave her out of it."

He did not move, merely held his gun in Will's direction and let the large piece of glass cut into Abigail once again. "I know your kind. You wouldn't dare attack me when she's in danger. You're going to watch… Mr. Graham. And you're going to suffer."

Will gritted his teeth, wondering how the hell he was getting her out of this. His drawing time wasn't fast enough to defeat a gun that was already aiming for his abdomen.

A loud explosion sounded in the distance and Francis turned his head toward it. That was his last mistake. In a move that made Will's pride skyrocket, Abigail kicked outward, successfully removing the gun from Francis' hand. Another kick hit him in the face, knocking him down.

Will drew his gun, shooting the man in the shoulder, caring not for his scream of pain.

Abigail scrambled on the floor, lunging for the discarded gun and shuffling away while keeping it trained on her attacker. Her hands shook violently, having never held a gun before, Will was certain. Dolarhyde struggled to stand, but another shot from Will, this time in the knee, halted him. The knee was always the best place to shoot someone. If they couldn't walk they couldn't get away.

"Abigail, don't shoot him, Hannibal and I need him alive," explained Will, coming to stand beside her so that she knew he was there and not just some figment of her imagination.

"W-hat are you gonna do… to him?"

Will glanced over to the piano, "We're going to keep him captive. Back away from him."

She did so and Will moved back, bumping his hips into the piano and wheeling it away from where the door was supposed to be.

A hiss of air and a low beeping alerted him and Will watched as a part of the floor sank and moved aside, revealing a dark hole big enough for a grown man.

He grabbed Dolarhyde by the jacket and dragged him over until the man dangled over the hole. "Have a nice sleep, Francis."

Will dropped him.

* * *

The Chesapeake Ripper returned and his first kill was none other than Francis Dolarhyde.

Francis was strung up as a dragon, much as Will had done so to the imprisoned man in Castle Lecter. Various shards of red glass were used to give the Great Red Dragon his due. They hanged him from the ceiling of his own house, right under the eyes of the FBI agents. His insides were no longer inside, legs and arms missing, his eyes had been poked out and replaced with red shards of glass to mock his way of killing.

Unfortunately, Abigail had to have a part in it. She needed to get away from the ripper but show that she had suffered injury at least. She offered to let them cut off her ear again and after much arguing between she and Will, it finally happened. Hannibal did the honors of course because Will did not have the stomach to cut off his daughter's ear.

Abigail was dropped off half a mile outside of Baltimore where she had to walk to town and made a spectacle to get help. Missing an ear and being covered in blood and large cuts along her torso and legs was enough to get her the help she needed.

Hannibal and Will stayed home under the pretense of worry for their daughter. It was late in the evening when Jack came along, telling them they found Abigail and she had barely managed to get away from the ripper.

According to the physical profile she gave, the ripper was short but well muscled. He had carried Dolarhyde with ease. He was a ginger, with slicked back hair and a light Brooklyn accent. Pale skin and blue eyes, with a thin nose and a wide jawline. The furthest description from Will or Hannibal ever.

Abigail thankfully received the medical help she needed and only remained in the hospital for four days before she could come home. Will embraced her carefully, regretful that she had to have any part in Dolarhyde's demise.

But at least she was alive and relatively whole.

* * *

Hannibal caressed Will's hand, pulling it up to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the back of it. He spun around, pulling Will with him as they danced.

"Your anger was lovely, dear Will."

Will let himself be dipped, if only to lighten up their spirits. The music flowed nicely as they danced together in Hannibal's study. "Did it give you ideas, Dr. Lecter?" teased the profiler.

Hannibal hummed, pulling Will against him until they were pressed together, chest to chest. They swayed there, not taking anymore steps but still moving to the music. "You had such skill and precision when we transformed Francis. Something you wish to tell me about?"

Will huffed a laugh. "After convincing Chiyoh to kill Mischa's murderer, I displayed him as a tribute to you. A dragonfly made of shattered wine bottles and broken window glass. Quite exquisite art if I do say so myself."

"Dragonflies are powerful symbolism in Japanese culture, representing a change and a growth in maturity. A dragonfly is supposed to make you turn inward and realize that your deepest thoughts are what control your actions and shape who you are and what you see. They bring peace and clarity, allowing us to live in the moment instead of the past or future. Impressive, Will."

"It's kind of annoying how you know everything. But I left him there for you, should you ever come back and see him."

"I appreciate the sentiment."

"I should hope so. God, even when I was annoyed with you I was trying to win you over," Will laughed. "As I think about it, it sounds more like a fucked up courtship gift than anything else."

Hannibal hummed once again, blowing warm air across Will's ear, making his profiler shiver. "A dazzling gift, I'm sure."

" _I_ thought so."

Hannibal's hands moved, one slipping into the dip of Will's lower back, pulling him even closer, and the other coming up to wrap around Will's neck, tilting his head up slightly. "You took vengeance for me, my Will. You received the clarity you needed to accept yourself and me as well," Hannibal whispered against Will's jaw, trailing his perfect lips over the shapely bone.

Will moaned when Hannibal bit down on his jugular, marking him… claiming him. It was the most erotic thing Hannibal had ever done in the time they knew each other. And Will wanted more of it.

"Take me to bed, Hannibal."

The blond did not need to be told twice. His hand trailed over Will's ass, pulling him upward. Will jumped, wrapping his arms around Hannibal's shoulders and his legs about the man's hips. Hannibal easily held him with one hand, using the other to rub warm circles into Will's back as he walked them from the study and up the stairs.

Will couldn't help but find Hannibal's deceptive strength hot. Being able to carry Will like it was nothing was a sign of power and strength and it made Will want things. Things that he would soon be getting.

Hannibal's bedroom - recently _their_ bedroom - had yet to be graced with their naked bodies. The bed, perfect, black silk, was king sized and awaiting their defilement. Hannibal placed Will down gently, already working on the buttons of his shirt.

Will, taking the hint that he was allowed to touch and not be reprimanded, ran his fingers through Hannibal's surprisingly soft hair. He'd always wanted to do it just to sate curiosity but now, the silken strands seemed so much more than just a curiosity. Every brush of his fingers left a heated trail on both of them.

Hannibal was mouthing the hollow of Will's throat, working his shirt off him carefully. He bit down on a collarbone, drawing a hiss from his Will.

"Hannibal, remove the suit."

Said doctor smirked, "How about you help me?"

Will sat up, already unraveling the double windsor knot. He tossed the tie across the room toward the small desk that was void of decoration. Hannibal's waistcoat went next, followed by his collared shirt. Will untucked the white t-shirt and pulled it over Hannibal's head, leaving him bare chested in their bedroom.

One swipe of his fingers through the fine hairs that dusted Hannibal's pectorals, caused the doctor to growl - somehow, though Will found it erotic anyway - and lean down, capturing Will's lips in their first ever kiss.

All the hype about explosions behind the eyes and breathlessness was nothing compared to what it felt like to kiss Hannibal Lecter.

Will was sinking into Darkness and it crooned, wrapping around him lovingly. The scent of Hannibal filled him. The taste of Hannibal was drowning him. Hannibal's Darkness was consuming him and he was perfectly alright with allowing himself to be overtaken in all that was Hannibal, not wanting to miss even a moment of this.

Hannibal's warm hands sank into Will's curls, pulling on them, angling Will's head even further back, opening him upon in a way that no one had ever dared before. They kissed, hot and heavy, tongues swiping against one another and the occasional bite to add the delicious pain they both craved from each other.

Hannibal guided him down to the bed again and Will allowed his pants to be nearly ripped off, tossed somewhere that neither cared about. Hannibal pulled back a little, allowing Will to breathe so that he may explore his Will's body, enjoying the angles and relatively perfect skin.

While marking Will had been done as a lesson and a claim, he'd regretted having mar such perfection in such a way. But Will was here now and they had come to grips with their past together and the hurt they'd caused each other. Forgiveness even when many said it would be impossible.

And Hannibal was about to consume Will, just not in the way he'd told Bedelia.

Will's body was receptive to his touch, arching and bending, whimpers and moans escaping from Will's taunting throat. Hannibal divested them of the rest of their clothing and fetched some lubricant from the bedside drawer.

"May I?"

Will's reddening face contorted in confusion. "What? You think _I_ take control during sex?"

"I felt it prudent to ask your permission first."

"Hannibal… I told you to take me."

Hannibal did. From what he knew, Will's currently body hadn't had sexual intercourse in a long time and had never done so with a man, so he needed preparation and a gentle touch. Until he was ready for Hannibal.

His body gave way for Hannibal, the doctor using his knowledge of the human body to experiment on his Will. Learning his erogenous zones and unfairly manipulating them. His fingers pushed inside Will in a consistent rhythm, wringing gasp of pleasure from his Will.

Hannibal had wanted Will's friendship. He'd then wanted Will to have a family with him. After the betrayal, he tried to ignore the fact that he'd secretly longed for more from Will, thinking that Will would never want him in such a way. How lucky he was that Will's feelings for him had evolved so thoroughly that he'd wanted Hannibal on all levels. And that he'd want Hannibal to lay claim to every inch of him. Something which no one had ever done before nor would anyone other than Hannibal, ever do.

"Hannibal… jus-just take me, please!"

The older man hummed in pleasure, his body tingling from the breathlessness of Will's voice. With careful precision, he lined himself up and pushed in, slowly. Taking his time, claiming Will in such a way that he'd always remember it. That Will would feel empty and incomplete without Hannibal inside him, taking him. Marking him. Claiming him.

" _Yes_ , fuck me!" screamed Will, moving in an attempt to make Hannibal go deeper. "I want you to own me, Hannibal!"

 _Oh_ how Hannibal wanted that as well.

With long, drawn out thrusts, Hannibal staked his claim in the most carnal form he could manage. A deep invasion of Will's body that would forever be seared within Will's soul. His body would crave Hannibal's every day for the rest of their lives.

Will's nails scraped against Hannibal's shoulder, Will's hands attempting to learn every inch of Hannibal's skin. The profile pulled him down until Hannibal was spread over him, covering his body completely, Will's spread legs coming up to wrap around his hips and tightened to pull him closer.

Will bit deeply into his doctor's lower lip, lapping at the blood and moaning. He was so depraved, he was going to hell.

The heat between them raged hotter and Hannibal's thrusts became faster, the friction of their skin rubbing so forcefully aroused Will further. His cock was caught between them, receiving the best attention it had ever gotten. Will arched into the thrusts, pulling Hannibal down in order to bite him right below the ear, so everyone would see and know that Hannibal Lecter belonged to Will Graham.

Hannibal groaned beside Will's ear, returning the action. Will's body spasmed then and he came, tightening around Hannibal so much that Hannibal had no choice, his orgasm ripped from him by Will's muscles.

Will sighed, enjoying how it felt to have Hannibal's cum inside him. The final claiming.

He clutched his doctor, refusing to allow him to pull away, instead rolling them over so that Will could rest atop Hannibal, the blond still buried within him.

He practically purred.

Large hands ran down his back, soothing his body with warmth.

"God, of course you're a fucking sex machine."

Hannibal laughed lightly, "With age comes experience."

"Don't I know it," Will commented, still catching his breath. "Is this the moment we profess undying love for each other?"

"Love... is too banal a word to describe how I feel about you, my Will."

Will's heart fluttered, understanding the sentiment and rejoicing over the fact that Hannibal felt the same!

"I get it. A four letter word that's part of a three word sentence would never be enough tell you how I feel."

Hannibal cupped Will's cheek, leaning to kiss his softly. "We can simply show each other our devotion for the rest of our lives."

"I like that," agreed Will.

They settled down, Will listening to calming sound of Hannibal's heartbeat.

They were together, their family was safe, and Dolarhyde was finished.

All was well.

And soon, everything would be perfect as he remembered that Freddie Lounds was still walking around, thinking she was safe.

How wrong she was.

* * *

 **A/N: FINISHED!**

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